


The 'Wrong' Dean

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Series: You And The Winchesters: Tales of Smut, Antics and Pie [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Inappropriate Photos, Jealous Dean Winchester, Jealousy, Love, Sexual Tension, The joys of technology...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored and in the mood for entertainment of a more 'physical' variety, you decide to send an especially provocative collection of selfies to a friend-with-benefits. A friend who, rather inconveniently, also happens to be called 'Dean'.</p><p>As it turns out, technology decides to be a troublesome bitch, and your explicit photos end up being sent to your hunting companion: Dean Winchester.</p><p>Events unfold in a way you don't expect and a dreadful case of 'drama' ensues...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...not the update for one of my unfinished Supernatural fics that some of you may have been hoping for (please please please don't be too mad at me :3), but I hope this is to your liking, lovely folks! It's just something to tide me over while I'm suffering from a slight writer's block :3 
> 
> Also, on a side note, I've been ridiculously stressed lately...I had a BIG project to hand in just last week, and my nerves were all over the place. Writing this has helped settle me and allow me to enjoy my week's holiday a bit more :'D
> 
> It is rather more angsty than I intended, so I hope that doesn't put anyone off :)
> 
> Please enjoy, my groovy readers! <3

Your task was simple; stay at the motel room and scour the local news sites for any potential cases, then proceed to carry out some research. Sam and Dean had gone on a hunt to rid some decrepit house of a vindictive spirit. They'd been adamant that you not accompany them, as this male spirit- aggressive enough already- was made particularly volatile by the presence of women. Initially, you'd guessed the spirit had been prejudiced in his days of living; as it so happened, after a brief explanation from Sam, the spirit held no such contempt for women but, rather, would have flown into a terrifying jealous rage and been brutal in his attacks on Sam and Dean.

Neither brother forced you to stay behind, but given that your being there would have put _**them**_ in significantly greater danger of being injured or (the very thought made you shudder unpleasantly) killed, you opted not to join them. Both of them were unsurprisingly quite grateful.

Some hours into your lonesome research, you grew bored, your mind drifting to places that weren't PG-rated. You could have gladly accepted some special company for the night; suddenly yearning for the feel of a body against yours, lips dragging across your skin, the sound of groans passing from between your lips and theirs-

 

 _ **Dean would make great company,**_ you thought dreamily. You'd had your sights set on the older Winchester brother for some time, but avoided pursuing him, believing it would destablise the sturdy foundations of your friendship and your 'hunting partnership'.

Nor did it help that you were certain he held nothing more than a platonic affection for you. No matter, though, a girl could still happily fantasise!

You thought of your other friend, also named Dean ( ** _did you have some weird proclivity for men named 'Dean'?_** ) who had made it abundantly clear that he was available for both companionable conversation and a damn good fuck. If you happened to be nearby, you would often send him a message followed by a small collection of special photos that made your desires unequivocal.

These fine examples of 'photography' often had you in little to no clothing, in some poses that many would refer to as 'incriminating'.

 

Stripping down to your underwear, you grabbed your phone and opened up the camera app. The first pose was fairly modest- just you peering up wantonly into the forward facing camera, lips parted slightly and cups of your red lace bra just peeking into view of the photo. The next was definitely a few shades more provocative. You lay back on your motel room bed, knees raised and spread, and held the phone at a distance, so it showed both your seductive expression and the length of your body.

For photo number three, you flipped over onto your front, holding the phone in front of you and tilting it to the side. The shot captured a look of feigned, kitten-eyed surprise and your proudly displayed buttocks (barely covered in the material of your panties). Tapping the 'share' option, you selected all three photos and picked out 'Dean' from your contacts list. Attaching all three photos, you quickly typed out a message giving him the details of your whereabouts then wrote-

**If you're up for it, get here quick. I really need a friend right now ;) and don't worry, honey, there's more pics to come, I'm just getting you warmed up :* xxx**

With an impish grin, you sent the text before returning to your camera app. It was time to really turn up the heat.

Slipping your bra straps over your shoulders and unfastening the clasp, you pulled the undergarment off and threw it aside. Then, after carefully tousling your hair to give the look of a sexy bedhead, you knelt on the bed. You raised the hand, holding the phone, lifting it up so you had a perfect shot. Your other arm was folded daintily across your front, covering your naked breasts, while you looked up coyly at the camera; a crooked smile in place. Approving the picture, you promptly sent it to your friend-with-benefits.

A few more pictures were sent his way, the most graphic one showing you pushing the lacy crotch of your panties to the side; revealing the barest hint of the soft, intimate flesh between your legs, glittering faintly with your juices. You knew that'd be torture for the poor guy, though he had never said he didn't enjoy being so mercilessly teased. Lying back on the bed, you waited patiently for a reply, hoping you had him riled up enough to tend to your needs.

 

Almost half an hour of mindless internet browsing later, and no tinny bleep of your notification sound to indicate a response, you sighed exasperatedly. It was time to resort to a phone call.

Tapping 'CALL' and pressing the phone to your ear, a few tone rings later, there was an answer.

"Hey, {Y/N], you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean, what about you? I sent you all those photos and you've not even responded, what's up with that? Are you busy tonight or something?"

"Um...what photos?"

"What do you mean? I sent you about seven photos, Dean, and I texted you where I'm staying for the night," you were bewildered by Dean's confusion.

"You did? I haven't had a single message from you, cupcake," he sounded sincere. "So, I'm guessing they were... ** _special photos_**?" He asked in a raspy purr, clearly very interested.

"But, how have you not had a message from me? I sent those pictures and the texts for sure, the little 'tick' came up to say they'd gone through to y-" You came to a sudden halt, face frozen in absolute horror.

"[Y/N]? Want me to come round? Maybe you can just show me those photos in person? I don't mind being a little unconventional," Dean chuckled.

"Shit shit shit shit!"

"[Y/N]?"

"Shit shit _**shit**_! Dean, I gotta go! Talk to you later! Bye!"

"Er-" Your friend was cut off by you ending the call and frantically going on to your text history. Scrolling upward to the most recent, that being the picture you'd sent almost a half hour ago, your suspicions were indeed confirmed.

 **Dean W**.... _**the contact you'd sent all of those pictures to**_...

 

 _ **How did this happen?**_ You demanded of yourself, moritifed by your dire mistake. Had you been so excited you'd simply gotten  **Dean** and  **Dean W** mixed up? Had your mind fooled you into believing you were messaging your old friend rather than the man you were crushing on?

No doubt Dean would check his phone when he was finished with the hunt and find _**seven fucking photos**_ of you, getting progressively more filthy. 

 _ **And the text !**_ Reading it back, it made you want to cringe and hurl your phone at a wall. _**I really need a friend right now**_.... _**I'm just getting you warmed up**_....

 _ **Fuck-a-doodle-doo**_ , you thought, drumming your knuckles against your head, trying not to let the humiliation consume you from within. You had given details of the motel, so perhaps he'd realise it wasn't intended for him?

He would either be dismissive or disgusted; you couldn't decide which was worse. When he and Sam returned, you knew it would be painfully awkward simply to _**look**_ at him, never mind talk to him. Perhaps he'd be chilled out about it, just laugh about it with you and say you must have got the wrong guy or-?

Your phone trilled softly.

_**He'd sent a reply.** _

 

One hand covering your mouth, you meekly unlocked your phone and opened the text.

**Interesting...**

That was his reply? Was he annoyed or amused or disturbed? You had to know. You began typing out a lengthy explanation, filled with numerous apologies, but the hunter had sent another message in the meantime.

**I'm gonna take a guess and say those photos weren't meant for me?**

You deleted the message you'd begun writing and responded with a simplified version.

**Dean, I'm sooooo so so so so sorry! They were meant for someone else! I messed up! I'm so so so sorry! :'(**

**We'll talk when I get back**

You dreaded what was coming. He'd tell you it was for the best if you parted ways with him and his brother, that you made him uncomfortable...

**Shit, Dean, I'm so sorry!**

No response. You set your phone down on the bedside table and went to re-dress. Yanking your t-shirt and jeans back on, you still felt exposed and vulnerable, so you dug out a sweater and slipped it on. Settling once more at Sam's laptop, you made a half-hearted attempt at resuming research, but found yourself ruminating instead; pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them. No longer even looking at the screen, you stared at the cuffs of your sweater's sleeves, dragging them down over your hands and snuggling into the soft material for comfort.

 

The Impala engine rumbled into earshot, the glow of the headlights slipping through a crack in the curtains. As soon as the ignition fell silent, you felt your stomach twist into knots. Would you be met with cold, hard stares of judgement? Or would there be no pretence of amicability? Just undisguised contempt?

When the car doors were opened and closed, and the key scrabbling in the lock, you pretended to be focusing on the laptop's screen.

As soon as the motel room door was opened you were met with Dean greeting you, in his usual jovial manner. "Hey, princess, how's it goin'?"

Surprised, you glanced up at him, hesitating before offering a response. "Um, ihey yourself. How'd the hunt go?"

"Alright. We ganked the son of a bitch. Got a few scratches, but it's nothin' that won't heal," he replied blithely. Sam followed his older brother into the motel room, kicking the door shut behind him and tugging his jacket off.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" The younger Winchester inquired.

"Good, thanks. I, um, I couldn't find any leads on cases. This place seems pretty quiet," you told him. He shrugged.

"I'm not gonna complain. Means we get a break for a change," he said, striding across the room to give you a quick hug. "I'm using the shower, unless either of you needs it?"

"No, it's all yours, Sam," you told him in a soft voice, cuddling him back. Looking forward, you noticed Dean, sat on the edge of the other bed, watching you intently as he unlaced his boots and toed them off.

"I'm good, Sammy, you can go wash your hair and shave your legs," Dean teased his younger brother, who responded by rolling his eyes and scoffing at the remark as he made his way towards the bathroom. The two of you were left alone.

 

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs, looking at you. You fiddled nervously with your cuffs, biting the material in an oddly childish gesture of worry.

"Dean, look, about the photos-"

"[Y/N], it's fine. You don't have to apologise, mistakes happen," he interrupted you, "Were you worried I was mad at you or somethin'?"

"Well, I guess. Or grossed out by me. I thought you were gonna tell me to pack my bags and leave!" You expressed your concerns, feeling somewhat relieved at his casual approach. He frowned quizically, an eyebrow raised in querying fashion.

"Why would I tell ya to leave?" Dean laughed. You found yourself giggling nervously.

"I thought- I figured you would...oh, I don't know," you chuckled, with a rueful smile.

"I'll say, I was pretty surprised. Gettin' back to Baby and checkin' my cell to find you'd sent me those photos...had to hide 'em quick when Sam got in the car," Dean grinned handsomely, his green eyes glinting with lively mischief.

"Oh, Dean, I was so embarrassed when I realised," you confessed, cupping your own face with your hands and shaking your head.

"I can imagine," he remarked, casting an unfathomable look your way, while his lips turned up into a small smile.

 

"See, I have this...um... _ **friend**_ , who's also called Dean. Me and him, we kind of have this arrangement, see. I took those pictures to send to him, as a way of saying 'I want some company'...it's something I've done before with him. When he didn't respond for a while, I called him and he said he didn't get any pictures or texts, then I found out I'd sent them to _**you**_ instead," you explained. Something in Dean's face hardened, his jaw more firmly set.

"Huh, really? I didn't know you had a fuck-buddy," he wondered aloud.

"Yeah, well, it's not something you really talk about with, um, guy friends," you said awkwardly.

"How long have you two been...meetin' up?" Dean asked. _**Why was he so curious about the other Dean?**_

"Oh, well...about six months. We've been friends for about two years and we just decided to, y'know, _**mess around**_ . If I'm nearby or if he's nearby, and you and Sam are out, one of us will text the other, we'll meet up and...well, you can guess the rest," you told him, with a soft titter.

"So that's what you do when me and Sammy go for a drink, huh?" His voice sounded vaguely hollow.

"Um, sometimes, only if it's convenient and...why-are...are you annoyed?" You began tugging at your sleeves, again, agitatedly.

"I'm not annoyed," Dean told you, rather lamely given how forced the words sounded.

"You are, I can tell," you panicked, turning in your chair and hugging your knees, "What's so bad about me having a friend like him? I mean, I've known him for a while, I trust him- it's better than getting one night stands at bars!" You argued, making the last remark pointedly at Dean. He scowled at you.

 

"So you've been telling some asshole where we're staying?"

"Don't call him an 'asshole', Dean, he's a nice guy! That's completely unfair!" You protested on your friend's behalf. What was Dean's problem?

"Oh, is he? Great, good for you! I'd say you should date him, but you're both already fuckin' each other so I guess you don't need to worry about labels, huh?" Dean snarled spitefully, tugging his boots back on.

"Why are you being like this?" You wrapped your arms around yourself, eyes watering. You'd never experienced Dean being quite as malicious as this, not towards you at least. It was completely unwarranted.

"I'm not being like anythin'. Look, I'm goin' out. Feel free to go call _**your Dean**_ for some 'fun'," he added venomously, pulling his jacket back on and storming out of the motel room. You sprang up from your chair and followed him, careful to leave the door on the latch behind you, wandering out into the cool, night air.

 

"Dean! _**Dean**_!" You yelled after him, running barefoot across the asphalt parking lot.

"Get back inside, [Y/N]!" He shouted at you, fiercely pointing his finger in the direction of the motel room. You made no attempt at paying heed to his order, instead charging over to him.

 "You act like I'm a piece of dirt just for having a fuck-buddy, but you- I bet you're gonna go out and fuck some random woman you've never met and you'll forget about the next morning! You're a fucking hypocrite! So don't you dare talk to me like I'm some lowlife scum just because I enjoy physical intimacy now and again- at least I _**know**_ who's fucking me!" You spat at him.

"This isn't about that, [Y/N]! You think I care about your buddy? I don't, go ahead and ride every dick in town, see how many fucks I give!"

"Obviously you do care, otherwise it wouldn't have bugged you so much when I told you about Dean-"

"-yeah, yeah, your special friend Dean. Your _**honey**_ Dean. You trust him, huh? Do you love him, [Y/N]? You care about him?" Dean gave you a significant look, as you stood before him, staring incredulously at the hunter.

 

"What-what does that have to do with anything, Dean?" You demanded, your patience worn paper thin to the ground. "Jesus Christ, you sound so fucking convoluted right now! One thing then another! What is it that's pissed you off so much?! Tell me, Dean, because I can't even make any fucking sense of what you're saying!"

"It doesn't matter," Dean said, gritting his teeth, moving to open the door of his precious Impala.

"Dean, please," you said, tugging gently on the sleeve of his jacket.

" **It doesn't matter** ," he repeated firmly, getting into his car.

"Dean, where are you going? Why are you acting like this? Just tell me, please!"

"Well, you think I'm goin' out to go fuck some random chicks, so let's just say I am. And there's nothin' to tell, 'cause there's _**nothin'**_ to it, [Y/N]," Dean replied curtly, slamming shut the door of his beloved car. You felt a few tears drip down your cheeks and splash the front of your baggy sweater, which you were huddling in for warmth and comfort.

"Dean, don't leave," you implored. The hunter switched on the ignition of his car, gave you a fleeting glance- as though he were about to relent. That little flicker of hope died the moment he began reversing out of the space, and manouvered to leave the parking lot altogether. Watching him drive away, you dabbed at your wet eyes, feeling a mixture of sorrow and frustration. You turned around and walked, hang-dog, back into the motel room.

 

Closing the door after you stepped back into the room, Sam then emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a towel that was tucked tightly at his waist. He shook his sodden hair, combing through it roughly with his fingers. Noticing you leaning against the door, with a somewhat despondent expression on your face, he approached you.

"Is everything okay with you, [Y/N]?" His tone was gentle.

"Hmm. I guess. Dean's headed out for the night, by the way," you answered, not quite looking him in the eye.

"After a hunt? Huh. I figured he'd want to get some sleep, but whatever, I guess. You sure you're okay?" Sam placed a hand on your shoulder, stooping over slightly to see your face better.

"Truthfully, Sam, me and Dean had an argument. I don't even know why...it became an argument. I don't understand what his issue with me is. All I know is, he's mad at me and I feel really shitty right now," you admitted dolefully, trying not to stare at the younger Winchester's toned physique, his chest and stomach still damp from the shower.

"Can I ask what started the whole problem?" Sam gave you a sympathetic smile.

"It's kind of awkward, Sam," you explained uncomfortably, to which he simply responded with an understanding nod.

"'Course, you don't have to say. Look, whatever it is, it's probably just Dean...getting hung up over something. Just something he needs to figure out in his head, y'know? He'll back to himself soon. I mean, you're his friend, it makes no sense for him to be angry at you if you've done nothing wrong. Give him time, [Y/N]," Sam cupped your cheek in an affectionate gesture.

"I don't know...I think in his mind I _**have**_ done something wrong, so he hates me for it," your voice cracked with emotion.

 

"Hey, hey, don't-" Sam soothed you, wrapping his big arms around you in a consoling hug, "-he couldn't ever hate you. Seriously, my brother's a complete sucker for you- if you told him to jump, he'd ask 'how high?'."

"Not anymore," you clutched at the young hunter tightly, "Sammy, I did something stupid. I thought I'd invite a friend of mine over...he...we're....we have this arrangement, see-" you stared up at Sam with wide eyes. He showed no sign of judgement, just nodded, listening to you attentively.

"I...took some pictures of myself...the kinda pictures you don't want to send to the wrong person. This friend of mine, he's called Dean too-"

"I think I know where this is going, [Y/N]," Sam rubbed your back gently.

"Your brother got the pictures. And a text. When he got back, he seemed fine about it! He already knew those pictures weren't for him, but when I told him about my friend...it was like a switch flipped in his head! He looked-he looked _**disgusted**_ and-and so angry!" You told him, your vision blurred by tears that threatened to fall. Sam looked away, a small, brief expression of uncertainty on his face.

"Maybe...maybe he was jealous?" Sam hazarded a guess.

"No...no, he wouldn't be. He doesn't feel that way about me, Sam," you immediately dismissed the very notion of Dean being envious of you having a sexual relationship with another man.

"I don't know, [Y/N], but I know for sure that he doesn't hate you!" The younger Winchester said determinedly.

 

"I just...I just wanted some affection, Sam," you whimpered, the tears having now spilt down your face, "What was so bad about that?"

"Nothing at all," Sam assured you, straightening up to his full height, and holding you closer.

"I wanted company ," you mumbled wretchedly, " I wanted someone close to me, I just wanted to feel loved for a while...not like your brother was ever gonna give me _**that**_." 

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Well. I am now," you nuzzled against his bare chest, hands brushing lightly along his waist. "Do you think...do you think _**you**_ could, Sam?" You inquired in a hushed tone.

"Could...what?" Sam pulled back a few inches.

"Give me company. Love me. Just for a little while. I just need someone-" you gazed up at him through your lashes, fingers travelling closer to the towel tied around his waist. Sam caught your hands before they quested any further, holding them in place.

 

"You're upset, [Y/N], I get that. But this isn't the way to deal with it, there's-there's gotta be some other way," Sam tried to deter you from your advances.

"For me? No. Maybe I have that in common with your brother? I want to fuck the sadness out of me," you remarked bitterly.

"No, don't- look, it's obvious you love Dean. You'd honestly regret doing anything with me," he pointed out.

"Dean doesn't love me back, so it doesn't even matter. Besides, given how our 'conversation' went, he's gonna tell me to pack my shit up and get the fuck out. Can't I have _**something**_ before I leave you two?" You looked up at him, doe-eyed, reaching up to touch his face. He sighed, eyes shifting across your face.

"I don't want you to have any regrets, [Y/N]. Do you really want to be with me tonight? _**Really**_? 'Cause...I don't want you to look back on this and feel bad," Sam stared at you with a kind of intensity you'd never witnessed before.

"Please, Sam," you uttered in a voice that was barely audible. Your words acted as a trigger for the hunter, who promptly pushed you against the door, tangling his hand in your hair, then pressed his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate embrace...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I bet you weren't expecting that ending to this chapter ;) in all seriousness though, I could do with opinions (a kind of poll, I guess)...
> 
> Should the reader ACTUALLY 'do the deed' with Sam or should they stop before anything happenes? I'm honestly not sure which way to go, so your thoughts are definitely more than welcome! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bam! Chapter two, my lovely readers! Please excuse any errors or places where the writing seems terrible (feels the whole chapter is badly written to me, but we are our own worst critics XD) as I've been a tad rusty lately :3
> 
> I shall keep my fingers crossed you enjoy this chapter ^.^ very firmly crossed, in fact XD

With Sam's lips crushed against yours, you hoped that it would banish thoughts of Dean- so you let yourself appreciate his younger brother's heated embrace. Though you knew Sam to be the more gentler-mannered and tender sibling, his 'bedroom' approach was quite the opposite. He slipped his arms behind your thighs and hauled you up, so your legs were wrapped around his waist, then tugged at your hair as he dragged his mouth along your jaw. You felt him, every so often, grind against you, with the intention of creating some satisfying friction. It became clear, quite quickly, that Sam had a predeliction for domination...

Still holding you, he wheeled around and carried you over to your bed. The young hunter lay you down, then clambered on top, his shoulder length hair falling forward and brushing against your cheeks as he crushed his lips to yours. Hoping to spur the younger Winchester on, you untucked his towel to let it fall open. He groaned into your mouth as you swept your hands across his firm buttocks and along the backs of his thighs, before snaking one hand around to gently glide it along his length.

 

Sam broke away from your embrace, so he could look down as he fumbled with the fastenings of your jeans. You ran a hand through his chestnut locks, though secretly wished it was the short, tawny hair of his older brother. You wanted his lips to be the plump, soft pout that belonged to Dean, you wanted to gaze up at bright, forest green eyes framed by dark lashes-

_**Shut up, shut up, shut up!**_ You screamed internally.

To divert your drifting mind, you watched Sam slip his fingers beneath the waistband of your jeans and, with some reluctance, begin pulling them down. His pace, before rapid and urgent, now slowed drastically. You saw his expression of discomfort, though he had only just pulled your jeans down mere inches. At that point he stopped, regarding you with the most soulful blast of 'puppy eyes' you'd ever seen.

"I can't- I can't do it, [Y/N]. I'm sorry," he apologised in a hoarse whisper.

 

Staring up at him for a moment, at the heartfelt sincerity in his face, you said nothing. Aside from your breathing and Sam's, there was all but silence in the motel room as you looked at each other. It dawned on you, the realisation-

You'd been about to sleep with the brother of the man you were in love with, just to numb the pain of his hatred towards you.

How had this night all gone so _**fucking**_ wrong? All because of some photos being sent to the wrong person...

Pressing your hand over your mouth, you stifled a sob, and turned your head to the side. You squeezed your eyes shut as the tears began dripping sideways, landing on the pillow and soaking the fabric.

"[Y/N], I'm sorry," Sam stroked your hair, "Hey, I'm so sorry for this-"

"No, Sam, _**I'm**_ sorry...I don't know what came over me," you choked out, shaking your head vigorously to deny Sam's claim of responsibility, "You didn't do anything."

 

"[Y/N], please don't..." He pleaded softly, holding your face and turning it so he could look you in the eyes.

"Sam, I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have even asked you to...I just wanted to feel like someone cared," you wept, giving a small, pitiful cry. Judging by the expression on Sam's face, you could tell your cries were breaking his heart.

"I _**do**_ care about you, you know that, right? I love you a lot but...I love you as a friend and this just feels-" Sam couldn't find the right word, so you offered assistance.

"Wrong?"

"Y-yeah. You love _**Dean**_. I'm pretty damn sure he loves you, too. You just can't see it 'cause he's too scared to show it," Sam stroked your cheek with his thumb, "If we do anything...you'll only feel unhappier. It's Dean who'll make you happy, and Christ knows, you'll make him see that he _**is**_ worthy of love." As he spoke the words, you nodded, but still burst into a fresh wave of tears. The Winchester brother leaned down and hugged you, wrapping you up in an embrace that reminded you that he was, indeed, _**your friend**_. He couldn't be a substitute for Dean; it was wrong and unfair on Sam to ask for such a thing from him. For the next few minutes, he held you, and you clung to him, managing to find some semblance of solace.

 

After a while, Sam had slowly pulled away to dress himself in an old t-shirt and pair of boxers; his sleepwear. You, too, decided to change into your night clothes, which comprised of a t-shirt of Dean's that he no longer wore and a pair of pyjama shorts with a duckling motif. The two of you snuggled up together on the couch and settled on flicking through the paltry selection of TV stations available to you through the motel's television.

"Ah, so would you like to watch a shopping channel for obscure hair products or some good ol' re-runs of shows nobody's ever heard of?" Sam inquired jokingly. You giggled at the question.

"Oh, man, as much as I'd love to watch someone try and convince me to buy a hairspray that'll create 'the perfect bouffant', I'll probably have to pass on both of those. Can we just talk instead?" You requested timidly.

"Sure thing. No arguments here," Sam smiled, switching the television off. There was a moment of comfortable quietude, until you piped up.

"You know, I don't know how this night went so badly. Started with some selfies then turned into...melodrama," you reflected.

"Doesn't seem like it should've happened this way, but....maybe things'll turn out for the best? You and Dean might, y'know, 'kiss and make up'," Sam gave you a significant look, which you couldn't help but smirk over.

 

"Interesting choice of words, Sam," you tittered, "Was that intentional?"

"Absolutely," he acknowledged, without a hint of shame.

"We shall see, my friend," you huffed with laughter, "Question: should we tell Dean that we almost...got freeky-deeky?"

"If you plan on telling him don't call it 'freeky-deeky', for a start," Sam poked fun at your quirky euphemism, "And by 'we' I assume you mean 'you, on your own, with me at least five miles away for my own safety'?"

"He wouldn't take it too well, I'm guessing?" You pulled a face, biting your thumbnail anxiously. Sam gave you a look that spoke volumes; something along the lines of 'How the hell do you think he'd take it?'. "Yeah, say no more. Maybe I'll wait, like, a year before telling him?"

"Leave out the part where you touched my dick, that might help," he advised.

"Yeah, I wasn't planning on shedding too much light on the intricate details, Sam," you grumbled, rewarded with laughter from the hunter, "Like, I'm not gonna say ' _ **Oh, by the way, Dean, I fondled your younger brother's penis and I may have also touched his balls at some point**_ '!" Sam was hooting hysterically at that point, and had thrown his head back against the couch.

"Wise choice," he commended you, patting your leg in an amiable gesture.

 

An hour must passed, filled with animated conversation and laughter; your spirits revived greatly since the conflict with Dean. Sam really was a  _ **true**_   friend, someone who's unconditional  _ **platonic**_ love and affection always offered that healing balm to soothe those inner wounds inflicted by the 'outside world' and, more than often, yourself. You could lower your guard, open up to him and not be in fear of critcism.

As was the case with Dean, in truth. While he wasn't as gentle as Sam in his approach to certain things and could be considerably more mischievous, not once did he make you feel uncomfortable or make an attempt to deliberately hurt your feelings. Sure, he'd tease you from time to time, gently poke fun at you, but he was, nearly all the time, actually _**sweet**_ to you. He would surprise you with gestures of tremendous affection, he became protective during hunts-

_**Don't...don't think about Dean right now,**_ you thought to yourself.

"You okay there, [Y/N]?" Sam, thankfully, distracted you.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired," you lied smoothly, feigning a sleepy eyed expression.

"Likewise. Time for bed, you think?" He smiled, getting up off the couch; but not before giving you a small peck on the top of your head.

"Yup!" You agreed, springing up and padding over to your bed. Sam wandered over to the other bed (he'd successfully called 'dibs' that morning after being victorious in a game of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' with Dean) and dragged the duvet back, climbing in. While tossing back the covers of your own bed, you could hear the approaching rumble of Baby's engine. Casting a wary glance over at Sam, you slowly clambered into the bed and, instead of laying back, sat bolt upright with your legs crossed. You started knotting your fingers anxiously, waiting for the other hunter to enter the motel room.

 

"It'll be fine," Sam whispered to you reassuringly, "He'll have cooled off."

You regarded him with a doleful expression, uncertain of whether to believe him or not. Soon, you heard the key in the lock, twisting around, and then the door was opened slowly. Dean came into view, appearing more withdrawn than angry. Still gripping the handle, he stood in the doorway, green eyes trained upon you.

"Um, [Y/N]...I was just wonderin'...if I could talk to you? In the, ah, car, if that's cool?" He requested, uncertainly. Sam looked between his brother and yourself.

"Sure thing," you replied quietly, uncrossing your legs and sliding out the motel bed. You padded over to the older Winchester brother, tugging the hem of your borrowed t-shirt down. Dean backed up, allowing you to exit the room, quickly nodding to his brother in acknowledgement before shutting the door. You folded your arms as the cold air bit at your flesh, causing goosepimples to appear across your exposed skin. Dean gestured stiffly at the Impala, encouraging you to get in on the passenger's side, as he walked over to the driver's side again.

Grateful to be getting into the warmth, you scurried over to the passenger's side and hopped into the car, shivering. Dean joined you, offering a sheepish smile in your direction.

 

"Sorry to, um, get ya out of bed like this," he said.

"S'okay. I wasn't ready to sleep anyway," you told him, teeth chattering while your body began adjusting to Baby's warm interior.

"Oh right. Okay," he nodded, rubbing his neck. Glancing over at you, he smiled and chuckled softly, "Is that one of my shirts?" He asked, pointing at your pyjama t-shirt.

"Oh, um, yeah. I borrowed two months ago. You didn't say anything, so I figured you didn't mind," you shrugged your shoulders self-consciously.

"I don't. Actually, I know it's my shirt already. I know you took it a while back, but I liked you wearin'-well, I thought it was kinda cute," Dean confessed. You gave a small humming chuckle, before smiling sweetly at the hunter.

"Think it goes with my duckling shorts?" You asked, pulling the hem of the t-shirt up and revealing the cutesy motif.

"Okay, that's pretty fuckin' adorable," Dean laughed. He noticed the goosepimples still on your arms and he lifted his arm, "C'mere, you're still cold. I'll warm ya up, sweetheart." His words managed to make you melt, so much so, you immediately shuffled towards him and revelled in the feeling of his outstretched arm being wrapped around your shoulders.

 

"Dean...look, earlier on..." You began, addressing the 'elephant in the room'. Or in this situation, 'elephant in the car'.

"I was a piece o' shit. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, what I said...that was fuckin' disgustin'," Dean shook his head, upper lip curling in contempt at his own behaviour.

"I know I made a mistake, sending you those pictures- it was an accident. And maybe mentioning...the other Dean...wasn't a good idea, I don't even know. I just...I wanna understand why you were so angry," you looked up at him.

"Y'know, I knew those photos weren't meant for me the moment I read the text...but it didn't really sink in 'til you told me about your, um, buddy. Then...I guess...I got jealous," he admitted, looking straight ahead, as though too afraid to see your expression.

"Dean," you sighed sadly.

"Yeah I know, it's pathetic," he added, self-deprecatingly, but you nudged him with your elbow.

"Don't, Dean. Nothing you feel is pathetic," you told him sternly, before touching his cheek lightly. The hardened hunter seemed to crumble the moment your fingertips lay against his face, at which point, he began shaking his head at his own weakness.

 

"It was so much easier, y'know, one night stands. Just pickin' someone up for the night and then sayin' goodbye afterward," he began, "You don't...have to _**feel**_ anything. Just enjoy fuckin' for a half hour, enjoy feeling a little numb on the inside for a while. But actually _**loving**_ someone is fuckin' agony- it opens you up, makes you an easy target, makes everythin' hurt so much more..."

"Dean," you uttered his name soothingly, cradling his cheek.

"How...how do ya deal with it?" His voice cracked.

"By accepting it," you told him, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on his mouth. Pulling back from those heavenly lips, you whispered into the intimate confines of the narrow space between you, "Embrace it."

"I _**love**_ you, [Y/N]," Dean confessed, resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you too, Dean," you combed your fingers through his tawny hair.

 

"I'm so sorry for hurtin' you, sweetheart," he said tenderly. "Broke my heart seein' you cry. I shoulda stayed, I shouldn't have left you like that..." You shushed him, tilting your head upward to kiss his forehead, while you continued to stroke his hair. He raised his hand, to rest it atop yours and inclined his head down to kiss the soft skin of your wrist.

"You really love me, [Y/N]? After everythin'...?"

"I've loved you for a long time, Dean. I don't think anything could change that," you told him, "I never said anything because...I didn't wanna cause any problems, y'know. And I figured it wasn't going to be a, um...two-way street, if you catch my drift?"

"That I wouldn't feel the same?"

"Pretty much. Clearly I was wrong," you grinned, tapping his nose lightly in a playful show of affection. Dean smiled, this time making the move to kiss you; a slow, sensual embrace. One of his hands came behind your head, the other travelled down to rest at your waist. You sighed serenely, truly content in the hunter's arms, your insides fluttering pleasantly with every loving kiss, every gentle brush of his hand across your clothed body. _**This**_ felt right, _**this**_ was the love you'd so deeply craved. You adored this man, had fallen for his caring touch, his whispered words of love repeated like the most romantic of mantras.

 

"Please...promise me you ain't ever gonna leave? I don't deserve it, I know I don't, but..." Dean cut himself off, every doubt and vulnerability revealed to you in his expression. This was an extraordinary moment; the first time Dean Winchester had completely bared himself to you, exposed that part of him he kept so tightly sealed away. You knew what you said could either make him...or break him.

You weren't sure if that revelation terrified you, made you love him more deeply or made your heart break for him.

"I'll only leave you when I'm dead, Dean, so you're fucking stuck with me," you said, eyes brimming with tears. It seemed to take Dean a moment to process your declaration, after a few moments, his arms were around you, his mouth against yours. You felt him gently pushing you back so you were lying on the bench seat of his car. You tugged at his jacket, urging him to shuck it off- which he did, smiling down at you, tossing it into the back seat. With him on his hands and knees above you, it was easy to reach up and unbuckle his belt. You knew you were breathing rapidly, rapt with excitement, soft, shallow pants pushed  from your chest every few seconds.

"Oh fuck..." Dean sighed, plainly aroused by the sight of you so hungry for him. Your hands were trembling as you pulled down the waistband of his jeans. The hunter removed his t-shirt, throwing it over the seat to join his discarded jacket.

"You're perfect, Dean," you crooned, mesmirised by the slight tanned complexion of his smooth skin, the subtle lines of definition, his broad shoulders and strong arms.

"Back at ya," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

 

"Fuck, I love seein' you in my shirt," he enthused, in a husky tone.

"Does it make you feel like I'm your girl?" You inquired; both kittenish and sultry.

" _ **Yes**_ ," he groaned, "Makes me feel like you're _**mine**_. That no other guy's gonna get their hands on ya." Dean added, the undertone of his possessiveness rushing to the forefront, while he ran his warm hands along your thighs.

"No other guy? None at all? Not even one?" You teased, secretly hoping to rile the hunter into 'taking you'. As expected, you were rewarded with Dean bringing your knees up and practically tearing your duckling pyjama shorts and lace underwear off, his jaw firmly set, those biceps bulging with every swift action.

" _ **None**_. Not a single fuckin' one gets to touch you... or see you like this..." Dean couldn't have conveyed 'red-blooded male' more if he tried; he was, in equal parts, territorial, predatory, intensely sexy and protective. The combination was highly potent and, you knew without a doubt, was causing a familiar wet heat to seep from between your legs.

"Sounds just fine to me," you moaned contentedly, spreading your legs apart and squirming on the leather upholstery. 

 

"Fuck me, those pictures of yours don't even do ya justice, baby girl," Dean groaned, looking at your naked womanhood; looking like a starved man who'd just been presented with a feast. You laughed a flirtatious, silvery laugh.

"So you did like them, then? Weren't too disappointed they got sent to you, right?" You purred, resuming the removal of your lover's jeans and boxers, pushing them down.

"Believe me, I was pretty fuckin' happy you sent 'em to me. Even if I was the 'wrong' Dean," he said, stroking your inner thighs. You yanked the front of his boxers, pulling him forward so he nearly fell on top of you.

"I think I got the 'right' Dean, don't you?" You smiled wryly, lifting his underwear over his hard length, while he made quick work of your t-shirt.

" _ **Fuck yes**_ ," he groaned in reply, running his hands over your breasts, covered by the red lace cups of your bra, "You put this 'specially for those photos, baby?" He asked slyly.

"Oh no. I've has this and the matching panties on since this morning," you said silkily.

"Fuck...I can't believe you wear this stuff when you're just...when you're with me and Sammy...if I knew you had this and those little lacy fuckin' panties on under your clothes... _ **fuck**_!" The hunter moaned, his cock somehow growing harder and heavier, "Seeing those fuckin' photos was bad enough...had to hide 'em from Sammy. Had to think of anythin' but those pictures to stop my dick gettin' hard, baby girl."

"Did you have a favourite?" You giggled, running your hands over Dean's beautiful back.

" _ **All of 'em**_. Lookin' all coy and sweet, like you wanted a dick inside you, wanted someone to make you dirty- if I'd been in the room with ya... I coulda fucked you till you couldn't walk," he flashed a loin-tightening smile down at you, which had you moaning beneath him.

 

"Could you do that now?" You intended to sound seductive, but instead sounded imploring.

"For as long as you want, baby," he purred, with a deep, sexy chuckle. "Tell me first, sweetheart...you ever think of me when you were bein' fucked by the _**other**_ Dean?"

"Almost all the time," you divulged, winning a smug smirk from the hunter, "It was real convenient him being called 'Dean'. It didn't matter if I imagined it was you making me cum and calling your name, because...I was only saying the same name."

"This time, you don't gotta imagine me makin' you feel good, baby girl, you get the real thing," Dean said quietly, as his fingers snaked beneath your bra straps and slid them over your shoulders.

"I do. I finally get the guy I've been in love with. Fucking bonus," you gave him a radiant smile, accompanied by a tiny, girlish giggle. Dean's gaze slid between lust and tender adoration as he looked at your enchanting face, lit by a smile that could melt ice and break a heart of stone. You wondered if he felt as incredibly lucky as you did, having his love reciprocated and then some.

Though you needn't have wondered for long, as he held your face in his hands- coarse palms brushing over your skin-and leant down to kiss you. "You're like that ray o' sunshine everyone looks for on a really shitty, dark day. I've been having a lotta shitty, dark days, but it's okay 'cause I finally found you," were his words, before the both of you made passionate, tender love in the front seat of his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can tell, I went with the 'no snoo-snoo for Sam and reader' route because it would have been a poor choice. It could be perceived, by some people, as though Sam were taking advantage, or that reader is so emotionally unstable that she's willing to shag the brother of the man she loves simply because they had an argument. Just my thoughts on the matter, feel free to offer your own opinion! As always, I love hearing from you groovy beans! ^.^
> 
> And yeah, I know....I didn't actually write any actual smut. I thought I'd leave that to your imaginations. Plus, I just wasn't up to writing a smutty scene given that I'm not on (what I consider) 'top form' :3
> 
> Hope you liked this story, folks! :D


End file.
